Hermione Granger the Pirate Queen
by Apocalyptic Mirage
Summary: Answer the call of the sea, conquer the promise of treasure, solve the mystery of the totems, resolve the past. That is the shortened list of adventure awaiting the girl unknowingly destined to be pirate queen. She's twenty. Assuming she can avoid death by enemy, disease, or fatigue, she has time. For love and for happiness, Hermione has time.


This fic has a beginning and an end. I've been hoping for almost a year that the middle would sort itself out. It hasn't fully, but I'm still hopeful. Technically, I'm late for Hermione Granger's birthday here, but I blame the weather. I have fifteen or sixteen chapters in mind, trying to later have a fast pace, but we're starting off slow. In any case, I hope you enjoy your reading. Cheers. If you haven't heard _Hey, it's Can(n)on [Hermione Granger the Pirate Queen]_ it's on youtube and was what started this whole mess of my Fleurmione pirate fantasies. And believe it or not, it's highly relevant to this story. You'll see.

And if anyone has Fleurmione pirate fantasies to share, I insist we look into this endeavor.

* * *

Hermione Granger the Pirate Queen –

_September 18__th_

Hermione Granger closed her eyes and let her hand release the quill in her grip, subsequently relaxing every muscle in her body. From there, her magic took over. The feather began to float in a very similar fashion as that time she'd learned to levitate one all those years ago at Hogwarts. Behind her eyelids, her mind processed all the events of the passing day, and she could hear as the quill scratched against the parchment set on her desk as clearly as she could replay everything in her mind.

Her quarters were taken almost entirely by her bunk and her desk. There was about one floorboard's width between the two furnishings, not enough to slip in even a small stool, so she sat on her bed to write. It wasn't a very comfortable position to hold for so long, but then if she'd wanted, she could go use the desk with the beyond believably cushy chair in the captain's quarters, which was more of a common space shared between her and her two best mates Ron and Harry.

If she were writing anything but her personal log entries, perhaps she would take that chair up on its offer, but no… this was always done in private. She could hardly trust herself to think clearly with the many distractions outside her quarters. This way, her thoughts could roam freely. Even her writing speed could not hinder her thought process as this magical quill articulately jotted down every last detail her mind chose to pay attention to. The _brisk and salty smell and taste of the_ morning air, _the charmingly boyish look on_ Harry's face as he'd _sleepily_ greeted her _g'mornin'_… It was as if it knew exactly how put her into ink. It did a better job than even she did when she'd do it manually.

This quill was definitely the best spoil she'd ever collected. She was still dead set on learning how it worked, what charm went into its enchantment, who enchanted it, and where did it come from originally. For now, she settled with calling it her most prized possession, her most guarded possession. Even the boys didn't know she had it. Well, Harry certainly knew she had it. After all, it was part of his inheritance before he let Ron and Hermione take their pick at the lot. He probably didn't know what it did. Hermione didn't know what it did at the time, either. She'd just thought it would be useful. One of her luckiest moments, it was, a score.

She replayed everything up until the moment she sat down to work, and the quill worked its wonder before settling itself in her upturned palm resting on the surface of the table. Its job was done. It was stowed in the drawer, which had an undetectable extension charm along with a neat little charm that made organization a breeze. Hermione could reach in blindly and pull out exactly what she needed because it would be summoned to her immediately with a single thought. She'd done something similar with the cupboards in the galley.

Another five minutes were dedicated to reading over the quill's notes. Unsurprisingly satisfied with how it was written, Hermione's log joined the quill in the drawer, and she tucked in for a night of sleep, which she never did get. Not that night, no. The boys would not let this night go to waste.

"Up and at 'ems, 'Mione," she heard Ron bellow before her door was ripped nearly off the hinges by the guy, who poked his ginger head in with a hastily added futile remark of, "Er, hope your decent…"

Hermione rolled her eyes and threw off the covers. Her pajamas were decent enough. She was always decent enough in anticipation of a raid, or she supposed moments like this. She really should charm the door to not open to anyone but herself. That was an idea worth looking into for both those reasons.

"Ronald Weasley, I'm not above owling your mother about your manners," she warned as she took a sitting position and stared at him exasperatedly, "Or lack thereof, as it may seem."

Ron gave his own eye-roll with a scrunched frown mumbling, "Geeze, I'm sorry. I should've knocked first."

"What do you want, anyway?" she shook her head.

She knew there was no immediate danger, the wards on the ship would send an alarm if it could not detain a threat. Eased by at least that, she let herself be annoyed at the disturbance. Harry poked in the doorway beside Ron.

"Get up, dressed, and above deck because we're taking you out tonight!" he said with cheer. It was good to see him happy again. Maybe that's why Hermione went along in the end.

"Come on, twenty? You're no longer a teenager! That's momentous or something!" Ron commented loudly as they left the ship with all its concealment charms activate, all defenses up.

Hermione wasn't planning on making a great deal of her birthday. She was actually just going to let it slip by without a word, but it seemed this year was the year the both of them had remembered right on time. If it wasn't only to see Harry happy again, then it was also this. The effort was sweet, even if that effort was to rob her of her sleep and get her drunk off her arse.

They'd need some more alcohol for that. Ron specifically was the one to keep the cupboard fully stocked in that department, but it ran nearly dry since they'd crossed paths with Seamus and his crew a short while back. Now they were about to pillage the nearest town for what it's worth in whiskey. It was a muggle town. The ease in which it was pillaged counterbalanced how they wouldn't find any of the _good stuff_ as Ron described.

"Sent pig scouting ahead earlier… The town's got pubs galore…" Ron went on as they ascended the rocks by the bay.

They were dressed in semi-formal darks, well enough to walk among people and slip away all the same. Hermione had foregone heels. The boys didn't care that their leather shoes were caked at the bottom with wet sand. The town was not too far off the shore, there was a high probability their streets weren't completely devoid of the very same sand. The air still held the smells of the sea, among wood burning smoke through chimneys.

First of the night was a place called _Scabby Andy's_. It was no more pleasant than its name, but it did keep a hell of a lot of hard stuff in the back, which was raided by Harry through a convenient window. Next off was a smaller joint called _The Maiden's Head_. Hermione cringed at the sign alone. Ron took care of the finer liqueur, none of which the wizard could recognize, that was kept in their cellar with a bad need for a new lock.

All goods were put in sacks with more undetectable extensions. Ron would joke about it being Hermione's signature charm; she used it that much. He wasn't complaining, though. It made the loot much easier to haul around the inconspicuously. They were tucked in his and Harry's coat pockets, trying not to be jostled as none of the three bothered with charming bottles that were going to be empty in a few hours anyway.

The last stop on the list was all Hermione's. It looked much safer than the previous two. It was more upscale, a restaurant with a widely stocked bar. It was a gem among the other sites. It looked very busy. Hermione felt daring.

Here she went straightforward through the front entrance with the intention of proving to Ron – and to a lesser extent Harry – that undetectable extension was not the only charm she had in her arsenal. They looked on unsure which was their dominant feeling: disbelief or excitement. They gathered their wits and followed at a watching distance.

The attendant at the door apologized for the 30 minute wait on a table, and Harry and Ron feigned being let down before the woman offered them seats at the bar while they waited and pretended to accept it with half-interest. The two claimed spots on two stools nearest the exit. Harry ordered for the both of them. It was Ron that spotted Hermione.

"What is she doing?" he asked once the bartender finished setting two drinks in front of them and walked away.

Hermione sat much closer than Harry and Ron were to each other with a man in a full suit, lit cigarette on his lip, and liberal stubble on his chin. Harry thought he looked a bit like Viktor Krum, only slimmer and the other man carried himself differently. Harry laughed.

"Of course you wouldn't recognize it, mate," he clapped Ron on the shoulder, "She's flirting."

Ron, flustered, asked, "How can you tell?"

Instead of answering, Harry withdrew a familiar device from his jacket and asked Ron to distract the bartenders. He did so magically. Everyone behind the bar thought there was something to be checked in the back just in time for Harry to throw one end of the magical gadget across toward their friend. The string stretched and slackened until it lay across the floor. The two heard every word.

Harry dropped some muggle money onto the counter before he and Ron left. Hermione, quite successful, didn't need to do so.

"Bloody brilliant, Hermione!" Ron laughed while they descended the same rocky slope near the water. He offered to handle Hermione's load like a _true gentleman_, the joke of the night.

"Poor sod, probably only just figured you left," he continued on, "I can't believe he paid for three whole bottles of… er…"

"Vodka," Hermione supplied suppressing her laughing to be sure she had stable footing on the slick stones, "I can't believe he thought I was interested in him. The total…"

"Wanker," Ron supplied.

"Wanker," Hermione agreed.

Hermione was just explaining how easy it was to sashay into the entrance and get swept up by their gracious volunteer. She was just about to test a lower level boulder when Harry's arm shot in front of her, cutting her off dramatically.

"_Oh no, allow me!_" Harry mimicked the swindled stranger from earlier, "_A _true gentleman _never lets a _lady_ walk on the _ground_!"_

Hermione saw him give a look to Ron, who put a matching face that was positively conniving.

"A _true gentleman_ never lets a lady _walk_!" he agreed.

Hermione shrieked as she was lifted onto the uneven heights of Harry and Ron. Ron hooked her under her arms. Harry grabbed her by the knees. She was shifted like a sack of loot until she could feel Ron's right shoulder at her back and she was almost sitting on Harry's left shoulder blade, protesting all the while.

"Put me down, this instant!" she ordered the two of them.

"Know any good tunes for such an occasion, mate?" Ron asked Harry, ignoring Hermione's arguments as if he couldn't hear them being screamed into his ear. Hermione quit her wriggling, knowing she would only hurt herself. She still resented this, but she was slowly giving in to let it be.

"Just the one, actually…" Harry replied before building up the first lines, "_For she's a jolly good fellow, for she's a jolly good fellow_…"

It started off shakily, but soon Harry and Ron were positively howling the chorus in frequently harmonizing yet totally conflicting melody into the night and Hermione was just about enjoying herself. She had even taken to kicking back on her friends' shoulders – though it wasn't all that comfortable actually – and taking in the night sky above. It's much prettier in the middle of the ocean, much easier to slip into the vastness. But this sky was quite nice, too.

"This will work wonders once we've drunk!"

That's when they heard it: the shrill whine similar to a kettle's when left too long on the burner, a completely mundane sound that meant disaster. Their ship had just been boarded, their wards breached.

It sobered their spirits up right quickly, the call. The boys set Hermione down on her feet before the three of them took to crouching down the rest of the path toward the bay. Ron and Harry left the bags on the sand. They took a very Gryffindor approach of defense – offense – headfirst, no less, with Ron leading the charge.

Ron catapulted himself impressively over the side of the ship. Hermione wondered what sort of spell he used to help him. Harry grabbed a rope left dangling over the edge – one that Hermione noted was not there when they left – and when nothing came down with his tugging, shot the ground and the force propelled him upward. She could see the rope hold on the railing, keeping him tethered and guided him down onto the deck where Hermione could already hear a scuffling and Ron's shouting. She hastily used a dangerous levitation spell. It was dangerous only because she used it on herself and hastily cast because she didn't have the time to lower the gangplank and climb aboard.

She expected a battle, which was only sort of what greeted her on board the ship.

Ron was growling and physically pinned to the ground by a body almost equal to his stature. Harry made some noise, but Hermione couldn't see him. A figure came shooting down from the upper deck. Hermione had her wand at the ready, an incantation poised on her lips, and a spell hurtling straight for her.

"_Expelliarmus_!"

If she had any time at all to think, she'd realize she knew the spell caster. As it was, she didn't have any time before her wand was plucked up by magic and deposited by her attacker's feet. It made a small rattle against the floorboards, reminding her of how insignificant a wand is out of hand and in turn a witch without a wand. She had almost no wandless magic skills. She was defenseless, unarmed because she thought not to bring another weapon on a run into a muggle town.

She looked fiercely into the eyes of her attacker. Funny enough, she looked as shocked as Hermione was to see her. Though, this girl seemed to look in a constant state of shock. Luna Lovegood… Hermione almost laughed. It was then she realized Harry was laughing. Ron was still growling in his scuffle, which seemed pathetic now because his assailant was no longer trying to hold him down really; he was merely sitting on Ron.

Hermione surveyed Luna like you would survey a friend you haven't seen in a while, which was a little over a year in this case. You tend to look for all the small changes from when parted last. Luna's light hair was still somewhat long, but not quite as long as it was throughout school. Her face looked much healthier since the small progress Hermione saw her make toward recovery from her stay as prisoner to the Malfoys. Hermione too had a lot of recovering to deal with from that ordeal. Luna seemed to be getting on as well as herself. Luna wore shoes.

"Good evening, Hermione Granger," Luna smiled, lowering her wand and scooping up Hermione's off the ground.

Hermione let relief take her frazzled nerves. The adrenaline would assuage in time. It was still exhilarating to see a familiar – and more importantly _friendly_ – face.

"How are you, Luna?" Hermione panted, smiling genuinely.

"Quite well. Yourself?" Luna inquired as she handed Hermione's wand back. Ten and three fourths, vine wood, dragon heartstring's core; it felt wonderful to be attached to it once more.

Hermione would rather never have to tangle with Luna in a proper duel. Luna had disarmed her fairly and fast. Wit wasn't the only thing Luna had going for her that was quick as a whip. Hermione wondered whether she was the top of her own class.

"I've had better nights, as you could imagine," Hermione answered. She turned to see Harry conversing with a girl, who even turned around was unmistakably Ginny Weasley, in the same friendly manner she was exchanging with Luna. She could also see his eyes wandering over Ginny's shoulder to her conversation partner with a longing she knew was for more than friendly. Ron was struggling less in his binding.

"That's enough," Ginny bid the tall man on Ron's back, "You can get off him now."

The man got up and offered a hand to Ron, who with all of his bruised ego stared at it until it was taken back. Ron got up on his own.

Ginny paced over to her brother as he collected himself, and swatted him on the back of his head.

"That's for missing my graduation, you git," she spat.

Harry laughed some more at Ron's expense. Ginny took him into a headlock and gave him a noogie.

"You, too, Potter!"

It was a scary moment when Ginny's attention centered itself on Hermione as she had finished off with Harry. Hermione didn't realize until she felt the railing behind her that she had been backing up the entire time Ginny approached. It seems in retrospect a silly idea to jump overboard your own damn ship just because your best friend's little sister was glaring at you, but this was Ginny Weasley, not a force to upset and by Merlin did she look upset. She'd take a hundred Lunas over a single agitated Ginny.

"…And you, Hermione Jean Granger," she said.

Well, getting the air choked out of her in a rib crushing hug certainly was unexpected, but not entirely unwelcomed. Ginny pinched Hermione's cheek upon releasing her.

"Happy birthday, 'Mione," she smiled, "They get you drunk yet?"

Good-natured Ginny was always a pleasure, if not only because it kept Angry Ginny at bay. Hermione could plot every familiar freckle on the younger girl's face, and adored the cute little smile she donned when speaking excitedly.

"We left the goods on the shore," Harry piped up, "I'll go fetch them."

"Why not just summon them?" It was only when he asked the question that Hermione recognized the third raider to be none other than Neville Longbottom. Of all kids of her year, Neville was definitely the taker of most changed. No longer the questionably sorted boy, he prove himself to be a Gryffindor through and through. Taller, bolder, much more muscular, and scarred a little for good measure; he kept up that almost rugged look that defined him in the seventh year Hermione herself had never attended.

She considered finishing off, but didn't see the point in it anymore. Besides, although they all missed Hogwarts sorely during their hunt for horcruxes, she could not _drag_ the two boys back to sit in on another history of magic lesson. And God knows how they'd cope with potions without Snape… the concept seems almost too bizarre and almost depressing. After dealing with all the wreckage and immediate repairs of the war, along with all the emotional baggage it carried, Harry and Ron were set of setting off on their own again. And by _their own_, they meant the three of them because they were inseparable. That was a given.

This last year had been good to them. Their adventuring did them well. They were still growing into their own, but there was a freedom for all of them.

"Hermione charmed the loot bags so they wouldn't get looted," Ron explained, "Unsummonable or something."

"I'll be back real quick," Harry excused himself. He propelled down the same rope he swung aboard on, one Ginny and the rest must have tied. As what? Bait?

"Oh, I'll help you," Luna offered and followed him. Harry was too far down to protest, but Hermione knew he was probably all flustered at the moment. Considering everything, including that Luna was wearing a nice little summer dress, Harry was probably exploding with mental and moral conflict.

"Hurry it," Ginny ordered, "We didn't sail all this way to be _sober_ with you lot."

She said the word as if it disgusted her by existing.

Ginny took Hermione by the hand and the two of them made their way to sit on a bench. Ron and Neville were talking already, sitting on a ledge opposite them.

"How are you guys getting yourselves killed these days?" Neville chuckled.

"Oh, gambling, stealing, you know," Ron joked, "How'd ya find us?"

"We ran into Seamus on the way. He's the one who gave us a good pointer."

"Really?"

"Took our rum for his troubles."

"Yeah, us too."

"That why you stopped?" Ginny asked Hermione, "Rum's all gone?"

"Rum, Firewhiskey, ale, even the muggle alcohol my cousin sent me from graduation. Gone," Hermione flicked her hand. Poof.

"Seamus doesn't even raid these days. He and the rest of his crew just track down the closest Gryffindor," Ginny laughed.

"I'm glad he took on Dean. I thought maybe he would have trouble getting his own ship."

Hermione and Dean were pretty different from each other, but both had muggle backgrounds. Dean thought maybe his father was a wizard, but he had never met the guy. Unlike Harry, who also never really knew his dad, there wasn't a trace of inheritance for him. Neither for Hermione, but Harry insisted on sharing with her and Ron, who had too many siblings to fight for it. Ginny...

"Whose ship are you using?"

The question had just hit the girl.

"Where did you dock?"

Ginny turned over her shoulder, away from Hermione, off the port bow.

"Have it circling a couple miles that way. We flew here. Our brooms are in the closet with Harry's and Ron's."

Hermione listened as Ginny explained the set up she, Luna, and Neville had going for them. They grew closer in the year Voldemort – well, Snape if only technically – had control over Hogwarts. Their pureblood status saved them from being exiled from the castle, but not from the wrath of the Carrows. They found they could really work together. So, Neville stuck around helping the reconstruction while waiting for the girls to finish their final year. After graduation, the three of them set sail together.

"Neville's gran uses his family's ship, but we've still got Luna's. I mean," Ginny pressed her lips, a little lost for the right words, "The... it's... it's colorful for a pirate ship, but _a ship's a ship_... Right, Ronnie?!"

Ron's chin was in his hand while he nodded at whatever Neville was telling him. He jumped at his sister's voice calling.

"Uh, yeah. Sure, Gin," he said.

Meanwhile, off the starboard bow, Harry had the sack he held earlier back in his coat pocket. It was lightly covered in sand a bit wet, but the contents looked alright. He also pocketed Hermione's. Luna insisted she help, so he handed her Ron's which she twitched her wand at and made hover over her hand. She lifted her arm and the bag slid onto her shoulder, perched like a parrot. Luna smiled at it, and Harry smiled at Luna.

"Well, then... um..."

_After you_ the boy might usually offer, but there was only one rope leading up to the ship and Luna was still in that sundress. Why did he not think to lower the gang plank?

Luna giggled.

"I do like this cute little spell. It reminds me of fairies. It turns just about everything into a fairy!"

She began walking back to the side of the ship, going first with no hesitation it seemed.

"Or maybe you could see it like the devil and angel of conscience. Devil, obviously."

It was just like Luna, going off about something with no real regard for what was to her irrelevant.

She was well into the air already when she called down, "Oh, I'm wearing trousers, too, in case you were wondering."

The red of Harry's face as he finally grabbed hold of the rope said he was much more than wondering.

"I think she knows, Mione!" he would say when he told the birthday-girl about this much later. "I'm... I'm almost positive she knows..."

It also seemed that, as Luna beckoned for him over her shoulder when she reached the railing while he still had a half a rope to go, Luna didn't think anything really special about Harry. He was to her like all of his closest friends, just Harry.

"We were about to send a search party out for you," Ron sniggered seeing Harry's head pop over the side.

"Shove off," Harry replied. He stuck his boot over for leverage before throwing himself on board.

Luna sat at Ron's side. Harry sat next to Hermione, across from Neville.

Hermione never fancied herself the partying type, no one took her for it either, but she did like the company it provided. Even with the joke of Seamus being blight on booze of the house Gryffindor, Hermione still could not regret their visit with him aboard The Lion's Pride. Compared to the crowd there, this outing seemed small with just the six of them, but these were probably the six closest friends Hermione had, or ever had for that matter.

Merlin, she did hope she wouldn't be too emotional when the drinks started rolling. The last thing she needed was to become the downer of her own birthday celebration. Seeing everyone in one place, safe, free, gathered for something happy... She remembered how Harry seemed extra excited for tonight, and she knew that he too must be glad to be surrounded by loved ones.

"What do we have, Potter?" Ginny asked as the boy inspected the haul. Ron was guiding Luna through his collection. Hermione took the liberty of reaching into Harry's coat for the last bag and pulled several small, brightly colored bottles along with three tall ones filled with a completely clear substance.

"No firewhiskey?" Neville asked once the boys laid out their options. Ron shook his head.

"Entirely muggle, this area. We were repossessing some magical artifacts from some unknowing pawn shop down the way in the town over. Before that was our stay in with the bums of The Pride, and you know the story there."

Looking over the spread, Ginny noted, "This would last about an hour with the Pride. It should do us for the night."

Tall, small, short, stout, colored, questionable, fancy, and bizarre... numerous. It was promising.

"-We've got regular old whiskey over here!" Harry informed everyone, holding high a square-bodied brown bottle.

"Thank you," Neville sang curtly as he leaned over and plucked it from Harry.

"Shouldn't the birthday-girl get a shot first?" Luna chimed.

"Certainly," Neville assured her, "Doesn't mean we can't prep ourselves for the following. She won't be the only one still dizzy tomorrow – if we do it right."

"I kind of want to remember tonight, thanks," Hermione joked.

"Well of course you would, _we're_ here," Ginny motioned to her sea-fairing companions as Neville popped the top off the whiskey, "It's going to be unforgettable."

Nearing a quarter of the bottles emptied, not necessarily drunk but emptied, the buzz was going for all of them. They had moved into the lounge beside the galley to get comfortable after the first rounds of shots lead by none other than Ms. Hermione Granger, almost-birthday-girl.

"_Almost_, guys, _almost_," she had said after the fourth time the drained glasses hit the table. That made about six shots total, in response to the ridiculous melody they were cheering for her. She was not sure, but it rhymed _Hermione_, _twenty_, and they really tried for _birthday_, but even six shots in that wasn't working for them.

"Well, almost-birthday-girl, that only means you have a little more time to think of your wish. Only a little though," Luna smiled and nearly touched her index fingers together. Little. Her fingers were circling, though.

"Am I supposed to blow out the shot glass?" Hermione asked. Luna laughed and waved her off.

"No, silly! The candles!"

"What candles?"

"Almost-birthday-candles!"

"_Almost-birthday-candles?!"_

"You have _almost_-birthday-candles?" Harry asked in a whisper. It was when Luna and Hermione realized how loud they were getting and quieted themselves.

"Silly, silly, Harry," Luna smiled even wider, "They're going to be birthday candles, just not yet because Hermione's only nineteen."

"Hermione, nineteen, Hermione, nineteen," Ginny hummed.

"Merlin, the cake!" Neville shouted suddenly. He stood up, but then had to sit down.

"Relax, Neville," Luna assured him, "It finished ages ago. Ginny took it out!"

"It was supposed to be a surprise, guys," Ginny palmed her forehead. Her crew was bad at keeping secrets, but Luna was good at baking cakes.

"You guys have a cake?!" Ron shouted joyously. "That's the best news ever!"

Hermione was red, and chuckling to herself.

"Thank you guys, really," she said. "You're the best."

"Best ever!" Ron chimed.

And they kept on until well into the night. After a couple more rounds of this or that, Luna went skipping into the kitchen, Ginny pulled Hermione into a chair while the boys cleared the table in front of her. The singing commenced, and because they were all drunk it commenced quick and unabashedly. Ron called it the best song ever.

The candles were magic candles that flickered different colors, and two of them were tiny fireworks. Some of them snapped and popped, and Hermione tried to blow them out when everyone finished singing and bid her to make a wish. There were two stubborn blue ones in the back that took an extra breathe, but the cheering and clapping around her made it difficult because she was smiling too much.

Everyone wished her a happy birthday in mismatching tones and variants of Hermione or 'Mione. Ron called her the best ever.

"Yeah, Ron, this is the best birthday ever," she assured him, making him smile wider.

"Here, here!" he began, but Neville set his hand with the glass back down.

"Oh no, come on, have some cake. Luna makes the best."

"Best ever," Ron agreed before he could even taste it. He swiped some icing off the corner, though. Ginny swatted him for that.

"I-I don't think it's good if we handle knives right now," Harry said worriedly, seeing as everyone was gone to some extent.

"Oh, maybe someone should've stayed sober for this," Hermione laughed watching Ginny sway.

"I know!" Luna sang, producing her wand from the shuffled clutter on the counter counter.

"I still don't-" Harry started to say before Ron interjected.

"Let's just have at it with a couple of forks, guhs, it's not gonna hurt!"

Luna shrugged before swishing her wand and a dozen pieces of silverware came crashing out of drawers in the galley and swirling around the lounge before dropping on the table or embedding themselves in the cake.

"Dig in!" she laughed.

As the six of them devoured their sweets, it did not come up for how long the other trio would be with Hermione, Ron, and Harry. They were welcomed for however long it was, but no one thought it would be for too long. They were enjoying themselves for now.

Ron had his wand confiscated after he _reducto_-ed the piece Harry cut himself.

It took a while to get the red cake off his glasses, but as soon as he did, Harry ran around and smeared what icing came off into Ron's hair with raucous laughter.

By the morning, what was left of the cake was a massacre, but they had it for breakfast too.


End file.
